


Rhaegar's Son

by musicat56



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-05-01 07:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14515371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicat56/pseuds/musicat56
Summary: In which Jon Snow knows nothing, so the Three Eyed Raven decides to do some deft time traveling and shoves Jaehaerys Targaryen into Jon's body.  Basically starts near the end of 7 ep 6 and goes from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Rhaegar’s Son**

**_Prologue_ **

Maybe he should have heeded the advice of Bloodraven.  But when the world went cold, when it was just him and the Night’s King playing for eternity he decided it didn’t matter anymore.  He had to change the past, the ink would never dry as long as he could reach back into the years before him.  And so he had.  Many many times.  And each time he realized that if Rhaegar lived they were prepared, but they had no dragons.  If Rhaegar died, they had dragons.  The result had played out so many times that he began to believe that Rhaegar’s death must be required for the dragons to be born.  But what to do.  He needed a Targaryen who knew what he was doing and a dragon for him to ride.  And then it had happened, Jaehaerys Targaryen just at the point of death from the Nights King’s spear warged into Summer in a last ditch effort at survival.  Realizing his chance without knowing if it was possible Bran somehow grabbed unto his cousin’s essence in Summer and pulled it into himself.  A moment later there were ravens flying in front of the Prince at the Trident, and Robert’s deadly blow met its mark.  Then back to the present – now it was Jon Snow who was dying of exposure as he pulled himself from the icy waters.  We have to wait until he dies thought Bran sadly as he watched his brother’s heart slow and stop.  Now thought Bran as he pushed Jaehaerys into Jon’s body, before summoning Benjen to him.

**_Jaehaerys Targaryen_ **

He took a deep breath, the pain of his lungs searing as he tried to figure out exactly what had happened.  A moment ago he was in hand to hand combat with the Night’s King and now he was here.  Sitting on a horse, his uncle beside him looking at him in concern.

“Jon you have to go back,” ordered Benjen, and he grabbed unto the horse’s reigns, his muscles slow and aching.  Jon?!? he thought in confusion.  But his mind was much too jumbled, and he soon found it all he could do to hold unto the horses reigns as unconsciousness clawed at his mind.

It was much later when he reclaimed his full senses.  He was at Eastwatch, only it was a poor replication of the castle he remembered.  He was sitting in a bed, a roaring fire in the hearth and many blankets covering him.  He still felt like ice.  What did Bran do, he thought angrily and yet he knew that it must be necessary on some level.  He searched the memories attached to the body he found himself inside, marveling that they came to him so easily.  He had never warged a human before, but he never recalled the memories of the beasts he inhabited.  Had he actually become this Jon Snow?  This foreign version of himself?  But he still remembered everything about himself too.  Growing up in the Red Keep with his siblings.  He searched the memories of this body and it only sickened him.  His family was long dead.  He felt like retching.

“You are awake.”

Jaehaerys smiled, surprised to see a familiar site from his childhood when his world had been turned upside down.  “And you’re alive,” he finally replied.

Danaerys gave him a funny look.  “You are surprised that I’m alive?” she asked incredulously.   

Her gaze was friendly and playful.  Which was how he remembered her, but there was something in her gaze that didn’t feel right to him.  Again, he wondered and searched his new memories of Dany.  Jon Snow had been attracted… oh god.  This was horrible.  He felt the bile rise up in his throat.  His grandmother would be turning in her grave if she thought another member of their family would be practising the old ways.

“Are you okay?” asked Dany in concern, ignoring propriety and sitting down in the chair beside his bed despite the fact that he was only half clothed.  And of course there was no mercy to this whole situation.  She was obviously interested in Jon too judging by the way she glanced at him shyly when she should be meeting him as a Queen.

“I’m betrothed,” he replied in panic, wondering what she had actually asked before he made this particularly disturbing discovery.  Dany was his aunt, they played together as children.  She was another sister to him.  And yet, she was this powerful foreign Queen to Jon Snow, this feisty…  Stop.

“You are betrothed?” she asked curiously and he wished he had not led with that answer.

“Maybe,” he replied, and she shot him a funny glance.  “I’m sorry Danaerys.  I need a few moments alone to process everything.  Can we discuss our alliance in a few hours?”

She looked like she was about to protest, but then nodded and he thanked the gods for one small kindness.  He spent the next hour shoveling through memories, trying to figure out why he was here and who his allies were now.  It appeared that Jon Snow and some of his buddies decided to go catch a wight to prove they were real to Cersei Lannister.  The whore who ran off to Essos with her brother after the rebellion was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.  It baffled the mind.  And Jon Snow had died for this?


	2. Tyrion Lannister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Jaeharys thankfully lies way better than Jon does...

**_Tyrion Lannister_ **

Tyrion looked at the watered down wine in his cup and wished for the millionth time that Danaerys had not insisted that they wait until Jon awoke to press onward.  Not that he was in a particular mood to face his sister and the infested sewer they called King’s Landing.  But at least it would be a change from the freezing cold of Eastwatch where the sworn brothers all looked at him like he was some kind of demon monkey sent by the others rather than one of the good guys trying to stop them.  Not that their company was any worse than spending his time with the Hound, Jorah and a re-animated corpse.  When he could choose his company he preferred twitting Gendry with Tormund, but the wilding was off scouting today and Ser Davos had told him to bugger off and leave the lad alone.

He swirled the wine again, ready to force down the awful Night’s Watch vintage when he was interrupted by Danaerys, an unreadable expression on her face.  She looked both relieved and perplexed.  Which was a good change from the grief and worry that had colored her face the last several days.

“Your Grace?” he asked waiting for an update on the King in the North.  For surely her change in demeanour had something to do with Jon.

“Jon’s betrothed,” she replied, though almost more to herself than him.  She seemed particularly vulnerable and young as she pulled her winter gown tighter around her shoulders.

Tyrion gaped at her.  “So I guess that means he is still alive as well?”

The Queen colored for a moment and he realized she had not meant to be so transparent with her feelings a moment ago.  Not that anyone couldn’t see that they were making eyes at each other for weeks.  Though it would be odd for the honorable Jon Snow to do so knowing he was betrothed. 

“To Whom?” he asked in genuine curiosity.

“He didn’t say,” she replied, and Tyrion smiled and downed the wine.  “Maybe it’s a wilding?” he suggested teasingly.  “Or, it could be….”

He stopped when he saw Jon enter the room.  For a lad who had been half frozen to death he looked awfully determined now.

“Lord Lannister?” Jon asked, seeming surprised to see him.  Perhaps he thought he had stayed on Dragonstone.  He should have but damn his need to be in the middle of everything interesting.

“I am glad to see you looking much better King Snow,” he greeted in response.  But the boy was still giving him weird looks, and had completely forgotten to address Danaerys.  Even a bastard King should know that Danaerys was not a woman to be insulted.

“Perhaps we should plan for King’s Landing now?” he finally suggested, an odd energy palpable in the room.  Danaerys was about to respond to his excellent suggestion when Jon cut her off.  “No, we aren’t going to King’s Landing.”

“What?” asked Danaerys, looking aghast.  “But we just caught that _thing_ to prove to Cersei that we need to be united in this.  I lost a dragon…”

Jon actually looked slightly annoyed at this, “Yes that was unfortunate,” he replied and Tyrion braced for her reaction.  “Unfortunate?” she asked, looking at Jon like she would burn him with her remaining dragons if she wasn't so relieved he was still alive.  He looked at her carefully, as if he was trying to figure something out.  Jon seemed to nod to himself and then kept talking where a smarter man would have stopped and listened.  “I am sorry you lost Viserion.  I know the dragons are like children to you.  But going to Cersei is a fool’s errand.”

“And you were a fool then,” she cut in angrily.

“We all were,” he corrected, and Tyrion wondered if Jon hadn’t scrambled his brains a bit when he was in that ice water.

“What do you suggest we do instead?” he asked trying to keep the peace between them.  And if the boy thought they were being foolish let him think of a better plan.  Danaerys was still glaring daggers at him but at least appeared willing to listen to his plan.

“We head for Winterfell.  We have dragons, Targaryens and Starks.  We can end this now.”

Tyrion stared at Jon, as did Danaerys.

“So you want us to just go kill him now?” he asked to clarify.

“No.  Not kill him exactly.  The Night’s King was a man, before the children of the forest damned him with ice magic.  He’s been frozen for thousands of years.  You spent a few days here and I’m sure you’re starting to feel murderous too.  No warmth.  No women, Lord Tryion.  He wants to end all life.  So there is nothing reminding him of everything he lost.”

“He killed Viserion, I want him dead,” cut in Danaerys.

Jon actually looked at her like she was a spoiled child and Tyrion felt worried their alliance was a step away from shattering if it wasn’t already irreparably damaged.

“The Night’s King was a first man, and as such he can warg into other beings.  The ice curse of the children limits him to inhabiting the dead.  If you kill him it frees his essence enough that he can jump into the body of another white walker.  That’s why he waited so long, until there were more Others to start his campaign.  You can’t kill him unless you can kill them all at once.  It’s too hard, the Others don’t all come out at once for that reason.”

Tyrion looked at Jon suspiciously.  “What do you propose we do then?”

“We need to go to Winterfell.  Starks, especially Bran, are powerful wargs, they can engage the Night’s King from afar.  When he does we fly the dragon to him and use fire to rid him of the ice magic.  Valyrion steel, dragon glass kills him, but dragon fire is purifying.  If it works out, he becomes a man again.

“This is a nice little theory King Snow, but it will not be us riding that dragon, it will be your Queen whose life you are heedlessly risking, as well as one of her two remaining dragons,” Tyrion pointed out.  He could not believe that Jon had gone from saying they needed a large united army to save the realm to saying they needed a cripple boy, a dragon and Danaerys.  “What happened out there Jon?”

Jon looked at Tyrion, he seemed to be deciding on his answer very carefully.  It hurt to think it, but could the boy be in league with the others?  Could this all be a ploy to rid the world of dragons and maintain Northern Sovereignty?  The boy was honorable, Ned Stark come again.  Or at least he thought so, but now he felt like he didn’t know the man talking to him.  The shy and deferent King Snow had seemed to melt before him to leave this determined man in his place.

“I learned the truth,” he finally replied.

“How?” asked Tyrion, wondering what sort of deluded visions he must have dreamt up while half dying north of the wall surrounded by dead men.

Jon paused for a long moment, and then sighed.  “My uncle Benjen, he saved me out there.  He told me about the Night’s King.  He told me about myself.”

Tyrion nodded, at least it wasn’t his own addled mind.  Just that of a ranger who had been lost in the North for years and likely had an equally unsound mind.

“What did he tell you about yourself?” asked Danaerys.  “Were you promised to someone?”

Tyrion felt vaguely annoyed at Danaerys now.  She was supposed to be his Queen, looking out for herself and her realm.  And she was back to the betrothal when so much else from Jon’s story should have been bothering her right now.

“Promised?” asked Jon, an amused smile forming on his face.  “I guess you could say that.”

They both looked at him expectantly.

“I have no intention of putting you at risk Dany.  I am not sending you or suggesting that you approach the Night’s King.  I only ask that you let me try to ride Rhaegal, and that if I can you will let me try to end this the easy way.”

Danaerys at least looked affronted at his familiarity with herself, finally starting to act like a Queen again.  “Are you always so eager to sign your own death warrant?”

Tyrion studied Jon carefully.  The young king seemed a little too excited about dragons now.  While before he had always approached them timidly.  Had he found some way to bind them too himself out in the snow?  “Danaerys perhaps we should prevent King Snow from doing something so hasty,” he spit out, hoping the Queen would reconsider.

“If he thinks he can just walk up to Rhaegal, ride him out to save the world then by all means have at it,” she replied bitterly.

“Thank you Danaerys.  I am going to warn you though, if I am successful I am going to ride him straight for Winterfell.  I suggest you are prepared to follow if you want to see this to the end,” Jon replied, before walking to the edge of the room and pulling open a window.  The cold air cut in bitterly.

To Tyrion’s dismay a moment later Rhaegal appeared in the sky, flying directly for them.  Directly to Jon Snow's window in fact.  They both watched in dismay as the young king patted the dragon through the window.  Then he climbed up unto the window sill to board him, a look of pure delight on his face. He swore he could hear him whisper “If only father could see me…"

“How is this possible?” asked Danaerys quickly running to the window to see that Jon was already taking off on Rhaegal.  She quickly summoned Drogon to her and followed the King in the North's example.  Tyrion damned his need to be in the thick of it as he climbed on behind her.

“What magic have you employed Snow?” he asked warily as they caught up to the young man who had just stolen a dragon from them with their own backwards blessing.

“Only that within my own blood Lord Tyrion,” he replied, suddenly turning Rhaegal downward to get away from them again.

Danaerys appeared confused for a moment as she attempted to follow Rhaegal.  Despite clutching to Drogo in semi-terror Tyrion’s mind still filled in the blanks.  Danaerys must have sensed he came to some conclusion because she asked him what exactly Jon meant.

“I think he means he has dragon blood.  Lord Stark told Robert that he found his sister Lyanna after the rebellion.  But he was too late and she died of a fever.  A healthy young woman dying of a fever in a tower where she had been taken by Prince Rhaegar and was guarded by the Sword of the Morning.  And honorable Ned Stark returned from that endeavour with a bastard son.  A bastard son who can ride a dragon.”


	3. Sansa Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To recap - Bran switches out the Jon Snow from this reality with one from one from an alternative reality where Rhaegar lives. Jaehaerys Targaryen knows what to do about the Night's King and now has access to a dragon. So he steals Rhaegal from Danaerys and heads to Winterfell to plan the Night King's demise with Bran. Tyrion figures out who Jon's birth parents are and informs Dany as they race after Jon to Winterfell. And now you're all caught up........

**_Sansa Stark_ **

Sansa walked the ramparts of Winterfell.  She supposed it looked like she was taking stock of things, watching Arya and Brienne’s progress as they trained fighters in the courtyard, occasionally whispering to a servant girl instructions for the day’s meal, or on preparing rooms for newly arrived guests.  In reality she was doing all those things, but in her heart she was just mimicking the actions she had seen her mother do so many times before.  The familiarity of it gave her comfort where there was so little.  The few people she had re-gained were lost to her – Arya was an assassin, Bran a demi-god.  Jon had gone south and then by reports north and had sent her no word.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She had wondered how long it would take him to find her side.  He always did when she was alone.  She smiled at Littlefinger.  The small smile - that never reached her eyes but didn’t show her teeth underneath either.  “I am afraid they are not worth that today.”  Littlefinger seemed ready with a reply, but suddenly lost it.  Not knowing the man to be without wit she quickly looked to where his eyes were now glued.

“Are those dragons?” she asked in surprise, watching as small spots on the horizon quickly became larger and closer.  As the true nature of the beasts became apparent the people in the courtyard quickly began rushing towards the castle and stables in panic.  Sansa had to shove her way through the crowd, down to the gates of Winterfell.  She could not tell if she was terrified or excited as she watched the two beasts racing towards them.

“It’s Jon,” Arya declared excitedly when she reached Sansa’s side at the gates.  No one else remained in the courtyard now other than the two girls, Baelish and Brienne.

“And Queen Danaerys, and her dragons,” reminded Sansa, holding onto her sisters arm to prevent her from running towards a dragon in her excitement to see their brother again.  “We will let the dragons land and then we will let them come to us.”

They watched in wonder as Jon landed the green dragon first.  He jumped off awkwardly and seemed to want to go to them, but stopped himself and waited for the Queen who was just now landing the large black dragon.  Sansa breathed an internal sigh of relief that Jon seemed to remember some propriety.

“Is that Lord Tyrion?” whispered Baelish, and Sansa was unsure if he was talking to her, or only to himself.  She noted the worried tone of his words, and wondered what about the imp could terrify Baelish.  Then her mind wandered to the fact that perhaps her first marriage had not been annulled?  With this thought in her mind she gathered herself to her full height, ignored Baelish and eyed Arya, urging her to also stand tall while awaiting their guests to approach them.

When the small dragon Queen dismounted her dragon Sansa had expected her to brush off her clothes daintily and saunter towards them.  It was what Cersei would have done had she rode a dragon.  Her expectations were greatly denied.  She watched in wonder as the woman ran to where Jon was standing and promptly slapped him across the face.

“How dare you,” she screamed at him and Sansa looked on in horror.  Jon only touched his face in wonder and then looked down at the small woman.  “How dare I?” he roared back at her and Sansa wanted to both cheer at his response and then yell at her brother for being so foolish.  Starks have a bad habit of getting themselves burned in these types of foolhardy confrontations with Targaryens.

“Was this all a plot to steal everything I have?” Queen Danaerys snarled.  Jon actually scowled at her.  “I don’t want what you have Dany.  I only want Rhaegal, and only because I need him to save the world.”

Danaerys looked ready to breathe fire herself and Sansa felt both terrified for Jon and relieved he had definitely not bowed to her as she had feared.  “You say that now, but maybe someday you will want it,” Danaerys roared back at him while Jon looked like he wished she should just shut up so he could approach them.  “Danaerys Targaryen, I pledge that I will never sit the iron throne as long as you live.”  Then he took the momentarily pacified woman's arm and practically pulled her towards them with Tyrion following behind them.

Sansa looked at them in shock for only a moment before recovering herself and curtseying to the King and Queen.  “Queen Danaerys, welcome to Winterfell.  King Jon, welcome home.”

“ _Queen_ Danaerys, this is Sansa Stark and her sister Arya.  Ladies of Winterfell and their sworn shield Brienne of Tarth,” introduced Jon.  Arya seemed calm on the outside but Sana could feel the subtle energy of her muscles where she still held her arm.  They could have her reunion with Jon later, question him on everything and the meaning of his fight with Danaerys.  But now they must greet the King and Queen.

Danaerys inclined her head to both of them and then looked curiously at the man behind him.  “This is Lord Baelish, he is my cousin’s - Robbin Arryn heir to the Vale – reagent,” introduced Sansa.  Baelish bowed to the Queen, she was about to address him when Tyrion intervened.  “Do not acknowledge that man Your Grace.  He is not worth a glance.  He framed me for the attempted murder of Bran Stark.  That whole debacle subsequently threw the realm into chaos.”

Tyrion smirked at Baelish while the rest of the group glared at him.  Sansa felt her head swim with the implications.

“I’m not a great warrior Lord Tyrion, I may have mistook a dagger,” he replied.

“And maybe my Queen’s dragons will mistake you for a sheep,” countered Tyrion.  “Darling wife no longer,” he replied, smiling at Sansa.  “Would it be too much for myself and my Queen to be escorted to our rooms and have some food sent to us?  It’s been a long day and I am sure we would be better able to meet and discuss strategies in the morning.  But please, if you find me dead in the morning know it was that man who killed me.”

Sansa merely nodded and led the party into Winterfell.  The courtyard was still empty and it was not until they entered the castle that people moved cautiously towards them to peer at the foreign Queen.

“What will you do with the dragons?” she heard Arya ask Danaerys.  “Your Grace.”  She finally added and Sansa tried not to sigh at her sister’s begrudging titles.  She could kill, but the game was lost to her.

“They will stay close,” replied Danaerys.

Arya merely nodded and Sansa worried about the implications of two grown dragons flying around and worried for Ghost.  She showed Tyrion and Danaerys to their rooms, dismally afraid neither were worthy given the unexpected arrival.  But nothing could be done about that, so she quickly summoned a serving girl to ensure they were at least brought food of suitable quality and had roaring fires in their hearths. 

Finally with her guest’s settled she found herself following Jon and Arya back to her father’s solar.  Baelish had made himself conveniently absent since Lord Tyrion’s accusation.  “I’m glad you didn’t eaten by the dragon,” she heard Arya whispering to their brother.  She heard Jon’s laughter in response and she had the sudden urge to pull them into her arms and never let them go.  They were still in public though.  So she summoned them into the solar and quickly closed and bolted the door.  Ghost just managing to nudge his way in at the last moment.

“Sansa?” asked Jon questioningly and she found tears rolling down her eyes at the look of concern in her brother's eyes.

“She’s glad you weren’t eaten by the dragon as well,” interpreted Arya running her fingers through Ghost’s fur.

“You must have questions about the dragon….” Jon started.  But before he could finish Arya was embracing him and Sansa soon found herself arms entwined with them both as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far.


	4. Jaehaerys Targaryen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Bran switched out our Jon with an alternative timeline Jaehaerys who knows how to use a dragon to defeat the Night’s King, has stolen one from Dany, and has arrived in Winterfell with Dany and Tyrion close behind. He is now getting re-acquainted with his Stark cousins. And we begin…..

Chapter 4

**_Jaehaerys Targaryen_ **

The girls made to pull away after several minutes but he pulled them close to him again.  He needed more time to search Jon’s memories of them and his youth at Winterfell.  He knew Sansa well enough as Jaehaerys but those memories may only complicate things now.  Arya was a complete unknown to him except the few times they met when his family visited Winterfell.  But to Jon Snow Arya was the little sister that he loved best.  His heart clenched at the idea of Rhaenys’ fate in this world and he held Arya tightly in the place of the sister lost to him.  He remembered his father’s stares upon meeting Arya, and his later explanation that Arya was the spitting image of his mother.  He pulled away to look at her closely and saw that she was hastily wiping her eyes.

“What happened with Danaerys?” asked Sansa looking to him for answers.  “How were you able to ride one of her dragons?”

Jaehaerys sighed as he tried to think of a good lie, knowing that Sansa could likely see through him easily enough.  He should probably tell her the same thing he told Tyrion but he was unsure how they would react knowing he was a Targaryen in this anti-Targaryen version of the North.  He was pondering on the best course of action when a memory of Jon’s popped into his head.  It was of Sansa.  She was telling him that they needed to trust each other to survive.  He supposed he would have to take that as a sign.

 “I actually have something rather important to tell you,” he began tentatively, and then looked around the solar for possible spies.  “Is there somewhere we can talk more privately?” he asked Sansa, remembering his father’s words that the most important discussions should happen in the places they were least likely to occur.

Sansa nodded to him and they followed her out of the solar.  He wondered where she was taking them when he saw she was headed towards the door to the crypt.  She slowly pulled it open before beckoning for them to follow her down.  It was a good idea, anyone watching would assume they were paying their respects as a family.

He felt oddly uncomfortable walking through the crypts – like he did not belong there despite it being his mother’s home.  The sensation passed and was replaced with the depressing thought that there were considerable more statues than he remembered in his lifetime.  He lowered his head sadly as he passed his cousin Robb’s memorial.  He could not help but think of his visit to Winterfell for Robb’s wedding to Lyra Mormont.  How Rhaenys had laughed in delight at the Northern custom of a bedding as she eagerly helped strip Robb.  He could still clearly remember Sansa rolling her eyes and smiling at him to avoid seeing her brother in all his glory.  He remembered Aegon jesting with his Uncle about how Lord Stark was afraid he was going to be the one to make off with one of his children.  And then Margery jested that she wouldn’t mind a sister wife and it sent poor Sansa flushing.  Of course other than Sansa they were all dead now.

He was so lost in his memories he did not see his mother’s tomb until he almost walked into it.  It took him a moment to even realize it was her.  It struck him that she was still considered Lyanna Stark here.  Buried in a tomb in Winterfell.  Not burnt in Targaryen custom after his ill-fated birth.

“I think this should be safe enough,” he declared feeling somehow safer under his mother’s stone gaze.  He watched as Sansa turned around, a questioning gaze on her face.  She obviously felt it would be better if they went deeper into the crypts but the thought was oddly distressing to him.  She didn’t question him though.  She likely was ready enough to hear his explanation of what happened with Danaerys in the courtyard.

He looked between them slowly before beginning, wondering how they would take the news.  They loved Jon and perhaps the truth would be an unkindness to them.  They had suffered so much already.  And perhaps they wouldn’t trust him when they found out he wasn’t their brother.  But if they found out later, or if Bran told them it would be much worse.

“Do you know the extent of Bran’s powers?” he asked hoping they were at least somewhat aware of what their brother could do so his explanation would be a bit easier to digest.

“He says he is the three eyed raven,” replied Sansa, looking at him curiously.  Arya glared at him.  “How do you know about his powers?” she asked her tone oddly void.  “You have only arrived back and have yet to even see him.  Or ask to see him.”

Jaehaerys nodded, feeling chastised.  She was right, he should have went to Bran right away.  But he was still mad at his cousin for bringing him here.  Even if the alternative had been death.  He began to speak again but stopped when he saw the way Arya was studying him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her. 

“You’re angry with Bran,” she stated.  “Or perhaps that he is here at all.  You did not call me little sister.  You didn’t muss up my hair.  You walked past our father’s and Robb’s tomb without paying your respects.  You came here on a dragon with the Targaryen Queen.”

Jaehaerys looked to Sansa for her support but noted that she too took a step back from him and closer to her sister.  “Is he one of you?” he heard Sansa whisper to Arya.

“You’re not Jon Snow,” declared Arya instead of answering Sansa’s question.  She pulled out a dagger from her clothes and began twirling it back and forth lazily in her fingers as she eyed him dangerously.

Jaehaerys could only stare at Arya in shock.  He had not thought he was that obvious and he did not expect to be threatened by his little cousin.  “Was it the dragon Queen who paid you?” she asked angrily, tears starting to stream down her face.  “Or Cersei?”

“Take off his face,” demanded Sansa suddenly.  Unlike her sister she was not in tears but she looked like she wanted to murder him as well and then resurrect him to murder him again.  He looked between the two in bewilderment for a moment before he realized what they were implying. 

“You both think I’m a faceless assassin?” he asked in astonishment, wondering where the two ladies would had even heard of the guild.

“Aren’t you?” asked Arya, though he noted a shred of doubt had creeped into her tone.

“No,” he replied feeling glad he had resolved on telling them the truth anyway for he was sure he was too shaken by their intuition and threatening demeanours to make up anything now.

“Maybe you just aren’t the Jon I remember,” Arya replied sadly, putting her knife into her pocket.  Her face now oddly devoid of emotion.  "You're a king now."

“You are right, I’m not the Jon you remember,” he agreed feeling an urgency he could not explain.  Like he needed to act now or risk losing someone very important.   “Bran can use his powers to influence the past.  He found me as I was dying at the hands of the Night’s King.  As odd as this is going to sound I am from another lifetime, an alternative past.  He found a way of warging me into this timeline.”

They both looked at him, obviously doubting his story but were at least intrigued enough to listen and less likely to murder him.  Then a frown marred Sansa’s face.  “What happened to our Jon?”

Jaehaerys frowned.  “He died, was drowned North of the Wall.  Bran somehow put my essence into his body and then had Uncle Benjen revive me.  I have my own memories, that’s who I am, but I have access to Jon’s memories too.  I can’t really explain it.”

“But wouldn’t that revive our Jon too?” asked Arya cocking her head to the side as if the strain of thinking about his revelation was weighing her down.  It certainly made him feel that way whenever he really thought about it.  And he certainly could not come up with an explanation for her so he merely shrugged his shoulders.

“So you are still Jon in a sense, just not our Jon?” asked Sansa.  “Except you do have access to all his memories.  And his body."  she paused for a moment,  "But you are sure you aren’t him?”

“I guess,” he replied not wanting to think about the possibility that maybe he wasn’t himself anymore.  “I think we need to ask Bran about everything…..”

“But why?” butted in Arya.  “I mean, no offense not-Jon but he could have saved our family, undone the red wedding, stop our father from being beheaded, why bring you here?”

Jon took a deep breath, finally a question he could answer.  “To defeat the Night’s King.”

“How would you be able to defeat him when our Jon couldn’t?” asked Arya, her tone defensive and he almost smiled at the way she was defending Jon.

 “I am from a very different timeline.  One in which Robert Baratheon was slain instead of Rhaegar Targaryen.  I grew up knowing who I really was, instead of believing I was the bastard son of your father.”

Both girls looked at him in shock – Sansa’s eyes were wide in surprise but he could tell she was putting pieces together in her head while poor Arya looked like she was completely lost now.  At least now he could tell his story without interruptions.

“My mother was Lyanna Stark.  She was Rhaegar’s second wife and died birthing me.  I was raised by my father and step-mother Elia in King’s Landing as Jaehaerys Targaryen along with my siblings Rhaenys and Aegon.  My father has known about the white walkers and the Night’s King for many years now.  We spent time studying the prophecies, preparing and strategizing.  We had the wall re-enforced, all the men were armed with Valyrian steel and dragon glass.  But we didn’t have dragons.”

He stopped talking, noticing a look a sadness passing over Arya’s face.   “So you had different siblings you loved…..” she murmured.

“You were my dear cousins in the North,” he replied, and yet distressingly a voice in his head was whispering _I’m still here little sister…_

“If you are truly the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark we need to find proof,” replied Sansa and he felt disappointed that this was her response to knowing his heritage.  He was about to reply that his claim met nothing, he wanted neither King’s Landing or the North when he realized she was poking quite intently around a loose area of dirt at the bottom of his mother’s tomb.

“Arya, help me pull this up,” she urged and the two woman pulled up a small box.  He was about to chastise them that unless the box contained a magic spell to defeat the Night’s King it would matter little to him.  He was not there to defeat Danaerys or Cersei or to serve anyone’s political desires.  He was about to tell them as much when he saw the beautiful harp and the Targaryen bridal cloak they now held in their hands.  He felt his eyes water and turned away from them quickly before they could see.  

“This should help prove it,” said Sansa happily, brushing the dust off the cloak.

“We should talk to Bran now,” suggested Arya, and he could tell she still was unsure whether or not to believe him.   They both looked at him to follow them to Bran.  But instead of compiling he grabbed the items from Sansa and hastily pushed them back into the box.

 “What’s wrong?” she asked, and he felt unjustifiably angry that she did not know the significance of the items she had just held.  That she did not remember donning the cloak in front of the heart tree before he marched north to die.  That she did not recall his father playing the harp for them at their wedding.

“Nothing,” he lied.  “But those things belong buried with my mother in the past.  We are wasting time with them.  You know the truth now, let’s go find Bran.”


	5. Bran Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Bran switched out our Jon with an alternative timeline Jaehaerys who was raised by Rhaegar and knows how to use a dragon to defeat the Night’s King. He stole Rhaegal from Dany, and arrived in Winterfell with Dany and Tyrion on his tails. They are resting while Jaehaerys is busy re-uniting with his family - he's already revealed the truth of who he is to Sansa and Arya - minus the fact that he and Sansa were married in his life. And now they are about to be re-united with Bran / shell of a person formally known as Bran. And you know, it's a Bran chapter, so lots of history......

Bran sensed his siblings and Jaehaerys entering his room.  He pulled his extra eye away from the crypt where he had been watching them to focus on their corporeal selves. The hour was late but it mattered not to him.  Morning and nighttime hours blended together when you were constantly jumping between times and places.  His rest came only when his mind exhausted itself.

“Jaehaerys,” he greeted, glad that Sansa and Arya already knew that this man was not their Jon.  It would quiet any protests they may have had about sending Jaehaerys to confront the Night’s King by himself.  “Your father taught you about ice and fire magic.  You know how to defeat the Night’s King and you have a dragon.”

“It was you who brought me here to defeat him then,” stated Jaehaerys and Bran was glad he would not need to explain things.  He wondered though at Jaehaerys’ angry countenance.  No doubt it was difficult leaving behind your old life, but it was to serve the greater good.  And it was not likely to be Jaehaerys who would be sacrificing himself in this fight.

“Do you know what to do?” Bran asked.

Jaehaerys nodded, and Bran shot him a questioning glance.  There could be no misinterpretations of their plan.  “You want me to get on a dragon and melt him,” Jaehaerys confirmed.

Bran felt the edges of his mouth start to raise, a witty comment forming at the back of his mind – but he quickly pressed it back.  There was no time for that.  “Essentially.  It will not be easy but I will attempt to control Viserion while you tend to the Night’s King.  To harness that amount of power I will need to be at the wall.”

“Tyrion designed a seat for you to ride on horses, perhaps that can be modified for his dragon?” suggested Sansa.  Bran nodded in the affirmative, glad they seemed to be onboard with his plan.  He was about to dismiss them with instructions to speak with Tyrion in the morning when Arya darted forward.

“Who are we?” she burst out.  “This is the first time we’ve all been in a room together in years and we act as nothing more than fellow soldiers in a war.  This is everything that I came back for, and all I find is that my dearest brother is a fake, Bran is everything but himself, and Sansa’s a jaded manipulator.  I should have stayed no one, how can it be a nobody who cares the most?”  She was about to run off but Jaehaerys grabbed her arm.

“Bran is consumed with saving the North, at any expense.  That makes him a true King of Winter.  Sansa has learned to play the game and stockpile and plan.  She is a Queen who will bring her people through the darkest winter.  And you Arya are a true daughter of Winterfell.  You are all Starks in the truest sense,” replied Jaehaerys, turning Arya’s body towards him so she was forced to meet his gaze.  He looked like their Jon in that moment and Bran wondered if she would have a harder time sending him away when the time came.

“What would Rhaegar’s son know about being a Stark?” demanded Arya angrily, shaking his arms off of her, while Sansa moved to keep her from leaving.

“You think I know nothing of Starks?  I wager I probably know more about the history of the Starks then you do.  My father was a bit obsessed you could say.  Did you know that Aegon the First wasn’t the first Valyrian to come to Westeros?  Did you know that there are ancient Valyrian texts that claim the First Men slaughtered the first Valyrians who came to Westeros as refuges?”

“All except for one of them,” Bran corrected, and Jaehaerys’ gaze was torn from Arya unto himself.  It was not the time for a history lesson but perhaps if he told them it would convince Jaehaerys not to do something stupid like kill the Night’s King before reversing his curse.

“The Valyrians who could not hatch dragons were scorned.  In a land of dragon lords boats were not highly valued so they were able to take a small fleet and escape.  They were an odd people though, with their purple eyes and silver hair.  They spent many years adrift, shunned by the locals wherever they made landfall.  Unfortunately the vastness of Northern Westeros meant they left their boats and traveled for quite some time before arriving outside Winterfell.  King Cragdon Stark thought they came to conquer and killed all of them.  All except one.”

Arya no longer looked angry, but she was shooting him an annoyed glance.  Sansa seemed tired but mildly interested, “Why only one?”

“Cragdon had a single daughter in a sea of sons.  She insisted that her father let her nurse the Valyrian back to health and then they could interrogate him for answers.  When they finally understood each other well enough to converse the young Stark daughter was in love with the Valyrian and begged her father for his life.”

Arya rolled her eyes.  “Relevancy Bran?”  He did not reply.  Merely shot her a glance and continued his story.

“The Stark princess and the Valyrian had a bastard son and she died of a nursing fever.  King Cragdon loved his daughter so well that he raised her bastard in Winterfell.  When the bastard came of age he left Winterfell to serve as commander at the wall. He fell in love with a wilding girl and they married.”

He looked around, no one seemed to be questioning the relevancy of his story anymore so he continued.

“Jon Snow and his wildling wife were happy at the wall.  But then the Andals came to Westeros.  All of the trueborn Stark sons died fighting them, only old King Stark managed to flee to the wall to seek his bastard grandson’s help.  They fought back the Andal invaders together and re-took Winterfell with the help of the wildings.  There were no Starks left in Winterfell though, other than the old king.  Jon Snow thought his grandfather would legitimize him.  But the children of the forest were angry with the King because too many humans had fled North of the Wall for safety during the wars. They hated Valyrians for their fire magic, and King Stark hated the idea of the taint of bastardy to his line.   So King Cragdon sacrificed Jon to the children of the forest.  It was they who made him into one of their monsters, ready to use for the next threat. His blood was too powerful though, they lost control of him.”

He waited for a few moments.  It was Sansa who asked first.  “Are you saying the Night’s King is this Jon Snow?  The son of a Stark and a Valyrian?”

Bran nodded.  “Yes.  But not only that.  King Cragdon stole Jon Snow’s son – his great grandson in truth – and claimed that he was his own trueborn son.  He had Jon Snow’s name struck from the history books.”

“We’re descendants of the Night King?” cut in Arya.

“Among other things."


	6. Danaerys Targaryen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: As Jon is dying from exposure post wight hunt Bran switches him with an alternative timeline Jaehaerys who was raised by Rhaegar and knows how to defeat the Night's King (aka great x 10 grand pappy bastard Stark/Valyrian Jon Snow). Jaehaerys rides Rhaegal to Winterfell to enlist Bran's help while Dany and Tyrion follow on Drogon. Since arriving Jon's mostly been busy with awkward reunions with his cousins while Dany and Tyrion... have tea? But Jon and Bran need to get to the Wall so we can all find out what Gendry, Tormund, the Hound, Jorah and Ser Davos have been doing... err I mean so they can kill the Night's King. Err I mean neutralize him. Whatever, just read the story

Danaerys studied the meager breakfast placed in front of her by the servant and found herself momentarily regretting she had not eaten more the evening before.  She had been too upset to eat and had only consumed several glasses of ale while ranting at Tyrion.  Now her head ached, and her stomach growled pitifully as she watched the gruel drip off of her spoon.  The servant had advised her that she was to meet with Jon and his family soon so she supposed she would have to force something down if she was to have enough energy to get through the morning.

She had managed to make it halfway through her bowl when a knock resounded on her door and a tall woman opened it tentatively at her response. She was surprised by the appearance of the woman in front of her, taller than any she had known, wearing breaches with a sword by her side.  The North certainly bred an interesting type of woman.  “I was sent by Lady Sansa to escort Your Grace to Lord Bran’s chambers,” she greeted, “But I can wait until you have finished your breakfast.”

Danaerys looked at the food and decided it was not worth it.  “No, I am okay, we can go now,” she stated, pulling her wool coat on quickly as she pushed the food away from her.  She followed the larger woman into the hallway.  She had only a moment to wonder why they were meeting in the young Lord of Winterfell’s rooms and not in the great hall before they had arrived.

When they entered the room she noticed that everyone else appeared to be present already.  Jon Snow was across the room talking animatedly with a plump young man, his sisters were standing together in the corner and appeared to be conversing silently with each other, while a boy in an odd looking chair sat in the middle of the room.  Tyrion seemed to be trying to engage him in conversation with little success.

“Welcome Your Grace,” greeted Jon, looking up from his companion before walking over and carefully shutting the door behind her.  She was surprised to see that her escort was allowed to stay.

“Thank you,” she replied, unsure if she could trust the kind tone in his voice.  He called her Your Grace and yet his demeanour clearly showed that he was the one in charge of this little meeting.  He was so different from the humble bastard King she had known on Dragonstone.  But then he had been her prisoner and she supposed she might as well be his now.  Though she did have a large black dragon which could even things out if it came to it.

“Danaerys this is Bran Stark.  Samwell Tarly.  Brienne of Tarth.  You’ve already met the rest,” he introduced quickly.  She felt her heart stop at the name of Tarly but surely there was more than one family.  But before she could worry or ask something stupid Tyrion’s voice cut into her thoughts.  “ _Her royal highness_ Danaerys Targaryen,” he corrected, and she smiled at him quickly before schooling her features to exude stoicism.

“The dead are coming for us and you are quibbling over titles?” asked Arya, glaring at the small man.  She looked like she would have argued further only Jon interrupted them.

“Listen.  I know we all have our differences.  But Danaerys you have seen the undead.  You know that the White Walkers need to be defeated, and quickly.”  She could do nothing but nod at his words, the softening of his tone and concerned look in his eyes a warning for what would come next.  “Unfortunately we have come to the knowledge that the Knight’s King has re-animated Viserion and we must assume it’s only a matter of time before he breeches the wall.”  He looked away from her before continuing and she was grateful as she had time to pull in the tears that threatened to fall for her son.

“The plan is that Rhaegal and I are going to engage and neutralize him while Bran wargs into Viserion.  We just need to get Bran to the wall.  Since you designed a mount for him in the past Tyrion I was hoping you could make something reasonable to transport him on Rhaegal now.”

She was about to stop Jon to ask how he knew her Viserion was claimed by the Night’s King but Tyrion spoke first.  “This is all very nice King Snow but if Queen Danaerys is going to allow you to take one of her dragons to the wall and risk his life once again then we need to talk about what is going to happen afterwards.  What will the North be offering us?”

She wondered if she really had any say in the matter.  Rhaegal was her son, but if Jon was his rider than she had already lost him.  He was Jon’s and she had no right to grant him.  But she would not volunteer that information and Tyrion was likely the only one who knew much about dragon riders.

“I won’t claim the iron throne,” Jon responded.  Danaerys watched the reactions of those in the room, Arya and Sansa’s faces showed nothing, Samwell seemed disappointed, Tyrion seemed unimpressed and Bran only nodded.  The large woman, Brienne was it, seemed completely confused.

“And tell me King _Snow_ what claim does the bastard son of Lyanna Stark have on the iron throne?” asked Tyrion.  She waited for Jon’s response but to her surprise the fat man Samwell spoke up instead.  “Well, you see, I’ve found records at the citadel.  They indicate that Rhaegar took Jon’s mother as a second wife just before the rebellion started.  So, while you are correct Tyrion, Lyanna Stark’s bastard son would have little claim on the throne I would argue that Rhaegar Targaryen’s trueborn son would have a substantial claim.”

Danaerys felt as if the floor in the room had suddenly gone out from under her.  She barely heard Tyrion's protests, and she did not bother to examine the evidence Sam presented.  If they were lying she had misjudged Jon terribly.  If it was the truth then Jon finding out he wasn’t a bastard may explain why he had gained so much confidence overnight.  That he was faking things until he got the upper hand could be another explanation.  Either way she could not trust his words for even if they were true things could change.

“Perhaps you care not for your claim now, when death stands at our door, but you cannot guarantee that you will always feel that way.  I know what it is like to be weak, when safety is all you crave.  But when you are strong you may feel differently.” 

The room was eerily quiet as Danaerys waited for Jon's response.

“Beyond this room no one knows whose son I am.  If they did I would lose what matters most now – the loyalty of my men.  I’m sure when they see me on a dragon they will realize I don’t deserve to be their King, but I need them to trust me until I can do what needs to be done.  When this is over if I am not dead in the ground I will abdicate all thrones.  I do not deserve the North or the South, I belong to both and neither.  I have no home.  But perhaps given my freedom I could find it again.”

“You almost make me believe you Jon Snow.  But can you claim your betrothed won’t ever press you to take your claim?  That she won’t wish to be Queen,” she replied, her voice softening.  She stopped before she showed weakness not befitting of a Queen.  But the way Jon talked of an impossible home made her think of lemon trees and red doors and she wished things were different.  Perhaps if she weren’t barren she would entertain thoughts of convincing him to let her go with him.  To find home and regrow house Targaryen together.

Lost in her thoughts she barely noticed how silence of the room until Jon’s sister broke it.

“You are betrothed?” she asked and Jon looked suddenly terrified.

“No,” he replied quickly and then he turned to look at her.  She was sure he saw the anger and hurt before she repressed it, and knew that he had been caught in his lie.

“I mean, I only told you Danaerys that I was betrothed, because, well I feared that you, I mean we seemed to be developing some feelings, and then I found out who I was, so I…”

“You lied about being betrothed so your aunt wouldn’t try to sleep with you,” completed Arya distinctly, and Danaerys could feel her face colour.

“That wasn’t very Targaryen of you,” joked Tyrion,  “Are you sure you’re a dragon?’

“Enough,” cut in Bran.  “You are wasting time with inconsequential things.  Tyrion, make the saddle.  Jon say your goodbyes.  Arya and Sansa the North is yours once we leave.  Danaerys everything South of the Neck is yours to take with our blessing."

End Chapter 6.

 


End file.
